The best thing about not having anything to write is when one of my fellow writers does have something to write. Please enjoy the following guest post by my friend, Nikki Mathis Thompson.
The material of the shirt in her hands is soft. Humming a quiet tune, she inhales the floral fragrance, then folds the tiny shirt with care. Strong hands grip her hips, startling her out of her fabric softener revelry. The warm breath at her neck draws a shuddered sigh from her throat. She finds herself moving towards the dark closet a few feet away. The space is confined and stuffy, but when his hand reaches the waist band if her yoga pants nothing else matters. His fingers dip passed th…
“MOM…MOMMY! I need a snack!”
What the what?!?
Aaaand just like that, the John Legend song playing in her head morphs into the shower scene music from Psycho. She shakes herself out of the horny haze, as her husband thrusts behind her still fully clothed. Awe…he hasn’t given up hope that this impromptu session is going to play out the way he wanted.
“I can be quick,” he whispers.
Good thing it’s dark because the eye roll she gives him is of epic proportions.
“Yah, I know, babe. But, it’s not happening,” she admits, with a defeated huff.
She opens the door to find the light of her life, the fruit of her loom, staring up at her with grateful eyes. The little angel must be starving—he hasn’t eaten since the five graham crackers he devoured ten minutes ago.
Her voice is soft and sweet. “Okay, sweetie. Mommy will get you a snack.”
But in her head…“Enjoy your cheddar bunnies, you little co$& blocker.”
-And end scene.
Sound familiar? We’ve all found ourselves the victim of failed attempts to have an intimate moment only to be foiled by the tiny people inhabiting our houses—leaving both parties frustrated, propagating the whole, “it was your idea to have children,” convo.
Hey, some people might be able to shut out the high pitched whining of a needy child, their sticky fingers scraping on the door like Freddy Krueger. But for most, finishing while one of our kids hovers a few feet away is about as sexy as Hitler in a thong.
Where does this leave those who still enjoy the recurring dalliance with their significant others? Does this relegate us to scheduled encounters?
“Okay, if we start foreplay at 2:30. If we have insertion by 2:45 and completion by 2:50, we should be in the clear. Timmy doesn’t wake up until 3:00.”
We all know this can be a gamble because, low and behold, that will be the afternoon little Timmy doesn’t go down when he’s supposed to, and when he finally does, he wets the bed right between insertion and completion. You’ve heard the old adage, best laid plans…(no pun intended.)
Where does that leave our sex lives? Silent movie reenactment as you finish like a fish gulping for oxygen—can’t wake up the snoozing offspring down the hall. The occasional romp in the back seat of the Suburban—cheerios lodged in your nether regions, while your husband does his best Cirque du Soleil impression, balancing between two car seats? Or the saddest scenario of all…Dun dun duuun…no sex at all.
As parents, we know how much energy it takes to raise kids. Some days it feels like our life force has been sucked out of us like a dementor from the Harry Potter books. Seldom will there be a “perfect” time, where empty house and libido align in one majestic event. Kids aren’t the only things that keep us too busy to get busy. There’s a laundry list of things that drain us of that loving feeling. It’s a wonder parents might not be in the “mood,” what with the tantrums, the whining, the cleaning, the conference calls, the lost deals, and the traffic. But daily trials and tribulations aside, physical intimacy is a true gauge for a healthy relationship, as much as respect and communication.
A big mistake we make as parents is expending all energy on kids and work—leaving not even a sliver for our partner in crime, the lover and best friend. How could we treat the person we chose to spend our life with so shabbily? Why is it so easy to give the people who mean the most to us the scraps?
Well, it happens. To all of us. But, it doesn’t have to. It’s like anything else in life. It’s not about having the time, it’s about making the time. Some days it’s easier said than done, but doesn’t it stand to reason that the person we lean on the most deserves a little effort? Yes, when you have kids, sometimes it’s hard to find a moment alone. Even going to the bathroom without an audience seems like a Herculean feat. But, with a little effort and a little creativity, there’s time for quality time.
It seems to be common sense that emotional intimacy leads to physical intimacy, right? And we can rationalize all day long about how one can be had without the other, but the truth is we need both. Not just the wife, not just the husband. Not just me, not just the other guy. WE. We all need it to feel connected. Relevant. And if we’re honest it doesn’t happen spontaneously as often as we would like after kids, if ever. So, that leaves effort, and yeah, maybe a little scheduling. Making the time. Kids…life…obligations…we have to stop using them as excuses. We need to take an active role in the trajectory of our relationships. Without intimacy, we’re relegated to co-parents, or even worse, roommates. I’m not putting up with my man child if I’m not getting an orgasm out of the deal. Am I right?
Nikki Mathis Thompson spent her formative years singing, dancing and creating her own world of make-believe. From an early age she developed a love of reading that has grown exponentially to near addiction. She has a business degree from the University of Texas at Dallas. Her degree looks great in the frame, but hasn’t been utilized in years. She gladly left the cubicle life behind to raise her daughter and a son was added to the mix some years later. You can find her devouring a book while drinking a glass of wine, doing her part to save the planet or lip-synching to her favorite songs while running through her suburb. She lives outside of Dallas with her family. Rebound is her first novel.